Body of Water
by sleep learning
Summary: Cloud’s sinking so far down, Vincent will do anything to pull him out, even if it means breaking himself
1. To Linger

_AN: a lead up of sorts, to the moments before the beginning of Advent Children. I don't own any of the characters, as you can tell from the abundance of clothes they have and the lack of crazed sex (only men with unbelievable hair can have) in the games and movie. _

A Year Prior to the Events of Advent Children

Dust lifted in a series of fast blown torrents under the shrieking wheels of the Fenrir. The clouds dispersed slowly as a streak of uplifted dirt led a straight path to Midgar. Cloud adjusted his goggles, face set grim against the skin stripping winds of the barren outskirts. He had made the last delivery of the day hours ago, spending the time until this moment driving relentlessly in circles. Days and days had been spent in the same routine, driving aimlessly until the sky darkened. If there was any direction, it would have to be so in the opposite of Midgar and the people Cloud knew. The people who knew Cloud ,that kept calling, that kept trying to talk to him. The air around him had dried his lips and whipped at his hair, now a tangled mess of spikes and dust as he slowed down, drifting through the selectively empty streets and into the slums, coming to an abrupt stop. Had it been someone else, no doubt their back would have protested as they removed themselves from the bike, but Cloud showed no signs of discomfort as he made his way to the crumbling building before him.

At the entrance, sighing, Cloud leant his hands against the solid, wooden doors of the church. He felt the grooves underneath his finger tips, like the reading of a blind man. Another ritual finished as he leant forward, pushing the door open. His senses were met with the scent of flowers, wafting like a warm embrace that promised not only to surround him, but to linger. _Her church_. Cloud raised his eyes to witness the last light of the day falling through the broken roof as he crossed the room. The thudding of his shoes though loud did not managed to echo, already a familiar sound in the church, an addition to the light music of escaping winds and creaking furniture. The pews on either side of him in the dark appeared like a saluting army as Cloud halted; he was not alone.

Before him, leaning into a crumbling column, rested a solitary figure. The darkened shape of man, the cloak wisping behind him appeared organic and intangible in nature. An unnatural light emanated from the figures eyes, brighter in the darkness, the illumination beckoned him while at the same time the recognition made Cloud wish to escape.

"Vincent"

His voiced had cracked slightly, hoarse from neglect. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken more than two or three words at a time, even his deliveries had been made in silence when possible. He swiped his tongue across his dried lips as Vincent rose from the column and made his way towards him.

"Cloud"

They stood, a metre apart, both silent. Cloud knew better than to ask why he was there, Vincent would decided whether or not to explain himself. In fact, he was more comfortable in the silence between them; all the possible reasons for his visit, the inevitable conversations, made him anxious. After Meteor, everybody, or at least, the survivors, had made promises to stay in touch. There had been a brief moment of closeness, but eventually friendships had weakened, calls weren't returned and life had moved on. It seemed easy enough to explain, but it hadn't really been that simple. Tifa had remained close to everyone, keeping stable links between them, trying to engage Cloud, coax him back into normalcy. When she had realised her attempts at 'talking about it' only made him retreat further away, Tifa had left him a key for 7th Heaven, cupped his face with small, soft hands, and then left him to his own devices. It was Cloud who hadn't answered his phone, hadn't sought out anybody. Life had moved on around him, while he spent time driving away or hiding in a church. Vincent had disappeared too, but his vanishing had seemed more natural. In the six months since they had last spoken, he had remained exactly the same. Same heavy, concealing clothes. His skin was as white and ageless as always. Those eyes – which Cloud refused to meet- still burned like fading coals. Clouds eyes locked onto the light tresses of hair that escaped the multiple wrappings and cloak. It still amazed him, how it been the same shade as Zack's –almost- yet completely different. The silkyness swayed hypnotically, a complete opposite to the crazed spikes he had spent hours gazing at as a teenager. Despite the differences, Vincent's hair reminded Cloud of Zack's, and Cloud could almost feel how it use to be, to pull the strands between his fingers. His hand twitched, breaking him from his reverie.

Vincent's rigid stance and sculptured features in the fading light gave the appearance of a statue; unwavering. Cloud crossed his arms over his chest, sighing dejectedly in preparation for the possible confrontation lying in wait.

"I thought you would want an update. There have not been any large signs of trouble from-"

" I told you, I'm not responsible for anything anymore. I'm not… I just make deliveries now" he knew it sounded ridiculous and for a moment he felt an intense brush of shame. The flush never reached his face, he couldn't let Vincent see his weakness; he wouldn't let himself be swayed.

"You're better than that Cloud"

"Better than what? Better than carrying boxes?" Cloud crossed his arms tighter, digging his nails into the fabric as he tried to control the uncharacteristic anger he felt rising. His left arm twinged under the pressure, as Vincent continued.

"You know better than to try and run away"

The voice was neutral, but Cloud couldn't help feel as if a sanctimonious speech was seconds away.

"I'm not running away. I keep telling you, I'm not needed anymore. There's no point playing hero, no point fighting. I'm done with it." Cloud turned away, taking a seat on a pew. He refused to look at Vincent, but his skin rippled uncomfortably underneath his clothes, the burning eyes penetrated the dark and held him captive.

"Your friends still need you"

Clouds words came out in a wisper, fluttering delicately as he struggled to remain still. If he ran, Vincent would only follow him, relentlessly. He needed to keep calm, remind everyone he was okay, that he didn't need help.

"They don't need me."

"Yes, they do."

His head dropped, falling into his hands as rested his elbows on his knees.

"How could anyone possibly need me, unless they actually _wanted_ to die. They're better off without me…"

"And you're better off being a delivery boy?"

Cloud found himself raising his voice, becoming hoarse again; the scratching in his throat oddly enough seemed to match the feelings inside as his mind was overcome by memories. Inside his head, they were dying a thousand times over, their eyes searching for his, pleading and shocked and laughing and fading.

"Yes, okay, YES! I couldn't protect them as a SOLDIER," he sneered at himself in disgust "what good did that sword ever do? Just brings death anyways. If they're not around me, they can't get hurt. It's me, you know. I'm what gets them killed."

"If you want to protect your friends, you'll stop this façade. You're hurting yourself Cloud."

Cloud gripped his hair violently, hoping the physical pain would release him from the onslaught of scenes playing on in his head. He knew it was a disservice to forget them, but remembering hurt more than any fight could. Zack and Aeris would remain eternally youthful in his mind, haunting forever. The unbearable ache of the past was smothering, all encompassing. Cloud couldn't bear to erase them, to go a night without dreaming of a smiling, First Class Zack with Buster Sword in tow. Or Aeris with a flower -not nearly as delicate or as beautiful as the angel embracing it- held between her nurturing, life sustaining hands. He wouldn't let them leave, but he couldn't go on living, having to wake and remember they were dead. Further away then he was allowed to follow.

Vincent stepped closer, his hand reaching out to take hold of Clouds own trembling hand.

"Death is cruel. Your life has been cruel. But you need to open your eyes and come back to us. You may think that they are waiting for you in the life stream, but first, there are people here, waiting for you in life."

When given no response, Vincent lowered his voice.

"This isn't what Zack would have wanted"

Cloud pulled his hand away sharply.

"Get out"

Vincent withdrew his hand, the pain in Clouds voice fueling the embers in his eyes.

"I said get out!"

Vincent stepped back; shrinking away from the shaking figure crouched below him. Silently, like a wraith, his cloak rippling in a non existent wind, he disappeared into the darkness.


	2. Fog

Vincent's visit had affected Cloud more than he wanted to admit. He had remained sitting long after the other man had left, head in his hands, knuckles white. On far too many occasions Tifa had given him the same speech, with a different brand of pleading or sometimes mothering. Cloud didn't want to hear any of it. The cost of abandoning his friends seemed far less than knowing they were in danger because of him. There hadn't been trouble lately, or at all, not for a year, but Cloud knew, it was only time, before something new came along and tried to take everything away from him. That was what his life amounted to. The people he held dear were always taken away, always dying for him. It was a like a curse, some omniscient presence which haunted him. It was death. Cloud knew death too well, had been on the verge countless times only to be brought back from the threshold. He had seen its steely grip on the people he loved, his hero, his enemies, family… as familiar as it was, it also remained intangible, an enigma. What lay beyond death was a mystery that whispered relentlessly. In the shadows inside the church, the falling petals of Aeris' garden, the empty houses and broken remains of the slums. The paths the dead took; the invisible line that Cloud couldn't follow. Death called to Cloud, like a siren. If not for Zack, for the promise he had given, Cloud would already know the answers to death. Instead, he was left alone, wandering like a lost child as life blew past him in vibrant blurs. All he was, was a shattered legacy.

Long after Vincent left, Cloud made his way to the makeshift bed bedside the flowers, resting the Buster Sword beside him. He lit the lamp placed on his trunk, watching with slight warmth as the light spread faintly around the room, illuminating a small circle around him while the roof and walls remained in shadow. Cloud loved the church most at this time, when the wreckage couldn't be seen. It appeared as it may once have been, when it was first built, whole and inviting.

With slow movements he removed his shoes, placing them beside him as reached for the sleeve of his shirt. His arm twinged slightly as he inspected it, and Cloud became mesmerised by the unusual feeling as his fingers ran lightly over the scarred flesh. It had began as a simple bruise, which was reason enough for confusion, as his mako ridden body was more the capable of recovering from broken blood vessels. Weeks later the bruise had changed to mimic scar tissue, growly slowly in size. Cloud marvelled at the fact that he could have lasting damage at all, not to mention for no apparent reason. In the back of his mind a small voice was telling him to seek help, that sickness shouldn't be appreciated, that he needed to be healthy. A larger voice, the pained, lonely voice that dominated most of Cloud's thoughts hinted at the possibility of disease; that he was dying. He could just let it continue, until it was too late. He wouldn't outright admit it, but a large part of him toyed with the idea of death. He would often fall asleep amongst those thoughts, his dreams becoming surreal and dark and suggestive. The strange markings had become a comfort at times, but at others, it scared him. He wasn't sure he could submit to death, but the choice was there, a promise he hid underneath his sleeve.

***

It was a bad day. Worse than normal Cloud observed, as he kicked out the stand on the Fenrir, untying the straps that restrained the current delivery. A bad day consisted of guilt, the constant tide of thoughts about the people he had betrayed, had killed, and failed. A worse than normal day was when he lost control of his memory, which still erupted every now and again with vivid glimpses of something forgotten. He could recall almost all of his life, his real life, but on occasion his head seemed to want to reorder things, or take inventory, or just inflict more emotional pain as Cloud believed. Today, Zack's laughter was sounding in his head. The thick, charming melody had Cloud's mind fogging over. As soon as the delivery was made, he needed to get away. He needed to drive like a madmen and escape any chance of something else triggering him. The last thing he could handle was catching sight of some tall, muscle bound youth with dark hair. He grunted as he shifted the box in his arms, pushing the door open with his shoulder and entering the building. The client was a civil service company, using the building as storage for various documents that had yet to be assorted, as well as a halfway house for ones that had been read, filed and waiting relocation. Cloud was under the impression that nobody was on receivable duty but as he dropped the box behind the front desk he was surprised to see another figure appear from the elevator, almost falling into the lobby.

He could see long tapering fingers struggling to hold the tower of boxes, a knee lifting to keep them in place before the man fell back, losing balance and crashing against a wall, remaining there in an effort to regroup. Cloud was sure he had heard a few muffled 'fucks' from behind the boxes –and soon after- saw a swish of a red pony tail as the man moved his head erratically, using his nose to edge a poster back into its holder. _Reno_.

It had been a year since everything. Cloud had on the occasion caught glimpses of the remaining ShinRa employees but both parties had kept to themselves. He hadn't wanted to see Reno and now he found himself backing towards to the exit. It wasn't a matter of forgiving, or even forgetting. Cloud simply could not bear to see a face from his old world. The microcosm of him and Zack. A few steps back and his hand gripped the handle of the door, at the same time it seemed Reno had lost the battle of balance, in an awkward slow motion the boxes lifted upwards before crashing everywhere, the contents spilling out with an "aw, fuck it, yo". Reno looked down at the mess of papers and folders, his face appearing somewhat disgusted, before realizing he had an audience.

"Cloud?"

Reno's face had shaped into his feminine form, eyes wide, his cheekbones emphasised as his jaw dropped in surprise.

"I was… leaving… I'll….I'm going"

"Hey wait… Cloud… don't run off man"

He bent to pick up the folders and paper, expecting Cloud to obey. Cloud found himself unbearably unsure of what he was doing. Leaving the building would take a simple second, but instead he found himself watching as Reno shuffled what appeared to be building plans. He crossed his arms, unsure of what to do, his body suddenly feeling disconnected from his mind. He felt displaced and he frowned as Reno stood up and smiled with that natural charisma he contained in excess.

"Every now 'n again we find more things that need reclaimin'. You know, the occasional form or file that should be ShinRa property. Was meant to pick these up months ago but…well" he shrugged and recollected the boxes.

When Cloud didn't respond Reno looked up again, a laugh about to escape from his lips

"You look like ya were gona sneak out" his lips lifted up on the sneak and he laughed as Cloud looked up towards the ceiling, unwilling to look at Reno.

"How'd ya know it was me?" Reno pressed on, unaffected by Cloud's standoffishness.

"Your hair… the pony tail…" he watched as Reno nodded, grabbing hold of the length and examining it, before tossing it back over his shoulder.

"Been thinking it was time to get rid of it-"

"No…" a well shaped eyebrow arched at him and Cloud frowned at himself. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. He felt overcome with confusion and he could taste a sadness seeping into his head. The air seemed to become suffocating and his hand gripped the door handle tighter.

Reno continued to look at him, his eyes boring into him as Cloud refused to return the gaze. Staring to the side, Cloud sighed.

"It's just, you always had it. Back then…" he drifted off.

The sadness was rolling in now, a fog that threatened to take him backwards, remind him of Zack… and SOLDIER.

"Times change man. Everything changes Cloud. You gotta accept it" Reno was searching Clouds face now, his own turning more and more into a display of concern.

Cloud lifted his eyes, looking at the Turk as his mind fogged over. He could see Reno, as he was years ago, the lanky form slightly behind Zack. His face caught in the sunlight as he brought a cigarette to his lips.

Returning to the present, his voiced cracked and his chest constricted.

"You think I don't know that? I just, I don't want things to change. But they do and... and…"

Reno grimaced, his hand reaching out to Cloud. His fingers -reaching closer- curved elegantly. He was reminded again, of a younger man, sixteen, and those same fingers sliding through his hair. His eyes had been brighter than, had gleamed like a predator as Cloud had whispered '_Zack's not here…'_

"Cloud… I..."

Cloud ripped the door open, running onto the street as his reasoning suffocated. His mind completely lost in fog. Still running, he turned into a laneway, before sliding down the wall of a building. Everything was turning black, his head feeling heavy, and he welcomed the numbness, still tasting sadness and the slight smell of cigarettes.

***

Using the wall to stand, Cloud braced himself, waiting for the tremors to subside. He'd woken to find himself still in the laneway, feeling dazed and tired. As soon as he'd realised where he was his stomach had turned in on itself as a searing pain raced through his arm. Curling in on himself, he waited out the heaving feeling inside, closing his eyes despite the oncoming disorientation. Eventually the pain had left and on shaky legs he rose, panting heavily.

Walking back into the crowded streets, Cloud made his way back to the building, hoping Reno wouldn't still be there. Thankfully, he saw no signs of the Turk and his bike was waiting faithfully on the curb. Climbing onto the seat and adjusting his goggles, he paused. Ahead of him was a child, a boy of no more than five or six. He was clinging to a large, burly man, most likely his father. Their clothes were frayed and faded and the man's face seemed haggard, worn down with fatigue. He was in deep conversation with a woman whom appeared greatly concerned. She smiled warmly as the boy shyly hid behind his fathers' legs, the change in position allowing Cloud to see his neck.

From the shoulder, reaching high into his hair line, was dark, scarred flesh. Cloud unconsciously gripped his arm, staring at the boy in open shock.

Their conversation waved over him and he listened intently, readjusting his goggles and pretending not to stare.

"…about a month ago. His sister has it too. Not nearly as bad though"

The woman made a sympathetic noise, smiling at the boy as he peered around his fathers' legs.

"Nothing we can do about it either. Doctors won't tell us anything useful. I keep feeling like I have to do something, I'm at my wits end, you know? I just want them to get better…"

" I can definitely get my brother to take a look at it. But I'm sure he'll say the same, it's definitely Geostigma."

The boy shyly crept towards the woman now, tentatively and playfully pulling at her sleeve and she bent down to ruffle his hair, taking a closer inspection of his neck and face.

"Has he been having any nightmares? Any daylight visions? The symptoms are so varied. Some people are so ill, but other times, it's like it affects their mind." She bit her lip, looking over shoulder then turning back to give the man a hopeful smile.

"I'll take you to my brother. He'll know what to do"

Cloud watched them leave, starting up the Fenrir and screeching off in the direction of the church. The conversation repeated in his mind and he mused over it with a calm detachment, refusing to connect the little boy with himself. He had heard of Geostigma before, in passing, but this was the first time he had seen someone with it. Arriving at his destination, he shrugged off the conversation, it didn't matter if it appeared similar. It was just a co-incidence, same symptoms, but probably a different reason all together.

Stepping into the church he was immediately met with a sweeping cloak as Vincent pinned him against the wall. He struggled briefly, unwilling to use his full strength and already taxed from the previous occurrences. Vincent held him tightly, his elbow pressed against Cloud's chest, his knee bent into Cloud's thigh. Cloud turned his head to face him, blue orbs widening at the inferno in the other man's eyes. He was breathing shallowing, but the pressure on his chest was somehow comforting. It was so long since he had had physical contact and Vincent's assault reminded him of what it was like, to be so close to another body. The position was violent, but the light breaths fluttering onto his neck made it feel intensely intimate.

Vincent's face was as inert as always but Cloud could sense the anger radiating in waves.

"I was going to leave you to your own devices. I thought maybe you would come around in time…"

Even though the sound was so close, Cloud struggled to focus on the words. He could feel the vibrations through his chest as Vincent's deep voice resonated from his throat. At such closeness, Cloud could see the smooth porcelain skin of Vincent's neck, appearing less like skin and more like silk.

"…but there is no point in pretending, because we both know you need to be brought out of the toxic hole you've led yourself into…"

He barely registered the disapproving tone, preoccupied with the warmth emanating from the strong arm keeping him in place. Despite his…_vampiric_… appearance, Vincent reminded Cloud of fire, of heat. Those eyes that lit from within, the burning sensation as he held Cloud against the wall. He could smell a mixture of sweetness and something heavier, darker and intoxicating. It felt like forever since he had been this close to someone, to be able to smell them so strongly, feel the contours of their body. Their faces were so close, and his mouth tingled, jaw tightening as he wondered what Vincent tasted like.

"...before it's too late. You can't let your pain become your weakness…"

He lifted his arm, gripping Vincent's shoulder as he gave up on listening. Inching his face forward, he noted the shock in Vincent's eyes, the tiny fires seeming to explode as he brought their lips together. It was warm silk. The softest of lips, and Cloud pushed firm against them, not waiting for a response as his tongue slid between them. The heat was welcoming and seductive, their tongues meeting with a slick sinful sensation. In an instant Vincent shifted, his hands taking hold of Cloud's wrists and holding him hostage against the wall, a leg parting Cloud's as his tongue forced its way into his mouth. There was no rhythm, only a feral passion as their appendages fought, weaving with shameless abandoned. Cloud pushed his body up against Vincent, his hips lifting as they met with clashing teeth and needy tongues. He sucked Vincent in, massaging in a rapid and fierce display of lustful worship. Vincent titled his head for a deeper angle and a strand of hair escaped, brushing softly onto Clouds cheek. He wanted his hands to be free, he wanted more than anything to weave his hands through the silky hair, so dark and desirable, so similar to-

Cloud froze, his mouth still open. His body slumped against the wall so listlessly that Vincent's hands were the only thing still holding him up. He closed his eyes, unable to think, let alone understand the feeling rising in himself. Was it shame, fear…

Vincent had pulled back, face as motionless as always, not flushing or even out of breath. He waited, searching Cloud's face, looking for an answer.

Cloud felt his wrists being released, the pressure gone from his body. The warmth was fading, the scent with it. He could hear Vincent leaving, the steps measured, not loud, or hurried, betraying nothing.

Catching his breath he waited until the steps faded completely, before he made his way to the makeshift bed, collapsing on it. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness embrace him, allowing the comfort only feeling nothing could bring.


	3. Unknown Burning

_AN: italics are dreams…_

10 months prior to the events of Advent Children

_It was the taste of ash. He is standing in a street, empty, the weather charged and electric. In an instant Cloud is reminded of the dirtier side of Midgar. The houses ravaged by arson, covered in a fine layer of soot. He can see himself, resting a cheek alongside a wall, the rough texture scratching smooth skin. He is licking the bricks, sliding a tongue through the filth. He wonders now if his tongue is blackened by Vincent. His teeth crunch against the mortar as he widens his mouth, jaw dropping further. He should be choking; he wants to push through wall. Both lips are torn now and the blood is coming between Cloud and the filth. He wishes –with a feeling of loneliness- that he had been born from this dirt and soot, rather than the blood and flesh he feels trapped in. The sky is darkening in the wake of the unnatural storms which seem to birth themselves in times of strife. In his mind, he is crazed, eyes shining green as he buries his face into the wall. His hands grip into the grooves of the structure as he is lost in a frenzy, wiping his face into the velvet of the ash as the storm rages around him. His hair is darkening, his face is black. His tongue brushes along his teeth, the last of the white, glistening madly with mako eyes. Like an animal, he is rutting against the wall while his ears are beaten by the winds gone wild. Inside he howls, or is he screaming now? Pushing off the wall and straining his mouth, his voice escaping as he falls to his knees. Panting, beyond reason, he lifts his hands wide to his eyes. His fingers are bruised and blackened, and he reaches forward like a starving beggar, his tongue unfolding, licking each finger, consumed again in crazed cycle_.

Cloud had split into two. By day, like a statue he was cold, unmoving and unreachable. Even the bitterness in his eyes had withered and died, leaving something not quite alive. Every move was mechanical, functioning at a minimum. Every task was restrained, his eyes vacant and hollow. He didn't notice the reactions he stimulated in passers by as they witnessed the actions of the catatonic man. The weeks went by in a haze, a blur of repeated days that fell through his frozen hands.

But by night, Cloud's mind came alive with vivid dreams that scarred the flesh of his eyelids as he clutched at the feeble, delicate line between dreams and waking. The nightmares and lucid seductions felt more like reality than anything he had experienced. They swirled in the dark corners of unconsciousness, assaulting him with intense sensations. The shocks he received would send him waking suddenly, upright in his bed, muscles tense; rivulets of sweat pouring down his naked chest.

Vincent hadn't returned and the increasing silence left Cloud feeling helplessly lonely. Their…_encounter_… had shattered the protective aura of the church, the long stretches of sleeplessness leaving him open to the shameful guilt he ignored by day. He had used Vincent, used his help and his body and what was worse was they both knew it. He knew why he had done it, the desperation he had felt and the yearning for physical attention. What he couldn't understand, was how Vincent had let himself be used, had given in and allowed himself to become a distraction from the pain. Cloud was unsure of if Vincent knew it was because he reminded him of Zack. He doubted it; they were so unalike in almost everyway… except the hair… the strength of their bodies…the tantalizing warmth. It didn't matter though, to what degree Vincent understood, because he still knew that Cloud had simply taken what was available. But Vincent had given back. He had pushed himself against the smaller man, had seized hold of his mouth in fierce dominance. Cloud felt as if he his very soul had been devoured. Unconsciously in the dark, Cloud often touched his lips, remembering the heat, the amazing warmth that had spread throughout his entire body. The dreams he had reminded him of Vincent too, the dark lust and taste of fire. As they faded, he would find himself yearning for Vincent, his body feeling hollow and cold.

***

The sun had risen high across Midgar, the day stifling hot and pulsing as the ground burnt beneath a cloudless sky. The wreckage of the slums absorbed the heat menacingly as large pieces of metal shrapnel reflected the sun in random beams of light. The overall effect was dazzling as the horizon became a mirage, as a faint buzzing sound kept coming in and out of range. Cloud licked his lips as he shielded his face from the sun. It was supposedly a day off and unwilling to be left at the mercy of the weather while in the treacherously dry plains, Cloud drifted aimlessly through the ruins near the church. The plan turned sour when he had collapsed helplessly into a pile of timber as his arm seared in ridiculous pain. The spasms were becoming more and more frequent, the nausea and dizziness, the sensation as if his skin was melting away. At first he had planned to return to the church, but the idea of spending more time in a place that made him think of Vincent seemed out of the question. For a moment he mused over the idea of visiting Tifa and it surprised him incredibly, that he would actively seek someone out. The conflicting desires left him confused and weary of being in a constant state of indecisiveness, so he trudged on with no direction in mind, letting his feet decided his course.

He's achieved at least an hour or so of little brain activity, when laying in the dirt ahead a bundle of rags cought his attention. The breeze tangled in the layers of cloth and lifted it high, revealing a patch of skin. Cloud ran closer, seeing the bundle now for what it really was; the collapsed figure of child. He knelt in the dirt, movements hurried as with one hand he felt for a pulse, the other fumbling for his phone. He cursed softly as he found his pockets bare then cursed again –this time thankfully- as he felt a light beating under his fingertips. He looked at the child closer now, a young boy –slightly older than Marlene he noted- with thick, messy brown hair. His face was smudged with dirt and his clothes were torn and mismatched, a familiar look of the orphans that littered the streets. Cloud picked the boy up, frowning at the sheer weightlessness as he held him to his chest. He heard a thud and looked down to find his phone in the dirt. He shoved it hastily into his pocket, uncaring as to how it came to be with the boy, running in the direction of his Fenrir.

***

Cloud burst into Seventh Heaven, receiving looks from the few regular customers who were using the bar as an escape from the midday heat. He made his way quickly to the bar, still carrying the boy in his arms as Tifa came into view, her face already seeming distraught before she saw him.

"Cloud? What's going on, who's-" she stopped when she saw the expression on Cloud's face, nodding quickly and heading for the stairs.

Cloud followed, ignoring the faces peering at him curiously as he and Tifa went into the nearest room of the second floor.

He carefully deposited the boy on the bed, stepping back as Tifa placed her hand on the boy's forehead.

"Go get water" he left silently as she bent further over the child, inspecting the dark bruises on his head that Cloud handn't noticed on the journey there.

He returned quickly to find Tifa with her back to him, her hand cupping the child's face, thumb sliding in slow soothing motions.

She shifted slightly as Cloud placed the water beside the table, her hair falling like a curtain over her face.

"What happened?"

"I found him in the slums. He was like that when I found him… I didn't know where to take him. If I brought him to a doctor, they would have let him… let him die or…" he trailed off, Tifa's demeanour making him defensive.

"How did he have your phone?"

"How did you know?"

"Because he called me!" her voice broke a little, distraught and shaky "he called, and I though it was you and all I could hear was crying. I thought some kid must have found you, that something awful had happened. And then he hung up and I didn't know what to do and you didn't answer back. I was worried _sick_. And then you _bring_ this _child_. What am I supposed to do?" Her hands gripped the blankets of the bed tightly and Cloud's face flushed with shame.

"I didn't mean to burden you. You don't have to take him-"

"Of course I'm going to take him!" she snapped, sounding horrified and angry and bitter all at once "You don't expect me to just leave him alone? What I want you to do is tell me what happened"

"I don't, I don't know how-"

"It wasn't his fault" the voice was feeble, scared and hoarse. Tifa and Cloud turned to see the boy struggling to sit up, his eyes wide and pleading.

"It was me. I'm sorry... I didn't know what to do… I didn't know and I'm...I'm..." he coughed, his words tumbling out in a confused stream of apologies and Tifa passed him the cup of water, squeezing his knee encouragingly as he drank and then patting him on the back as he choked from drinking too fast.

"I found it on the ground. I wanted someone to help me. Everybody else left. They all left and I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to scare anyone; I just wanted someone to help me. I was afraid. I… wasn't stealing it. I found it. I'm sorry…" Tifa shushed him quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and smiling warmly.

"It's okay. We're not mad at you. We were just worried. It's Cloud's fault for losing his phone, and you found it for him. You're okay now. That's all that matters." She ruffled his hair affectionately and pulled the blankets back over him.

"I'm Tifa. That's Cloud. What's your name?"

The boy smiled at both of them, leaning back into the pillow and pulling the blankets up to his chin.

"Denzel. I'm Denzel."

"Well Denzel, I think you need to get some sleep. I always feel better when I'm rested. So how about we leave you to rest for a bit, and I'll bring you up some dinner in a couple of hours?"

His smile became shy and Cloud noted warmly the slight blush that had fluttered across his cheeks, his eyes affectionate as he looked up at Tifa.

"Sounds… good"

"Okay then." Tifa stood up, walking towards the door and pushing Cloud out with her.

As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs Tifa grabbed Cloud's arm, her face furious as he made to leave.

"Where are you going?" she hissed angrily as she tried to whisper.

"I have to go… thankyou. I didn't mean to trouble you, but... I have to…"

"Un_believ_able, you're leaving me here with this boy who probably doesn't have a home to go to and who we know nothing about."

He pulled away sharply, moving quickly to the door before she had the chance to stop him.

"I'll come back, I promise."

***

"I saved someone today"

The wind whipped at his hair as Cloud sat by the edge of the cliff. The plains stretched on in front of him but Cloud kept his eyes on the Buster Sword embedded in the ground, reaching out towards the sky. The growing rust seemed painfully fitting, a reminder of how long it had been since he put it in the ground.

"But I think… I think it's too late me for. Something's happening to me… and I don't know if I want to fight it."

He stopped talking, there didn't seem to be any reason to anymore. When he closed his eyes he could feel a presence, one that didn't need words. He would have to go back, sort things out with Tifa, but for now –while he was still strong enough- he wanted to remain on the cliff, remembering Zack.


	4. Breaking the Surface

The sky was a bruised ocean of blues and black when Cloud returned to Seventh Heaven. The sun was slowly piercing through the heavy darkness of night, small beams of light catching on the frost lined windows and fading in the steam rising from the roads. Cloud slipped quietly into the bar, silencing the jangling of his keys and wondering what time would be acceptable to wake Tifa up, or if he should simply wait for her to come down.

He found her sleeping in the office, slumped in a chair and a hand crushed under her head on the desk where it must have originally propped her up. He grimaced slightly, feeling guilty at the fact that she had waited up for him.

As gently as possible, Cloud lifted her from the chair, negotiating the various assortments of furniture and the stairs to her room. Despite his best efforts, her eyes were opening as he placed her on the bed.

"Cloud?" she asked sleepily, sitting up and taking his hand gently as he pulled away.

"Didn't mean to wake you. I just got back and thought I'd wait until you were up." he sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly overcome with weariness.

"You were out the whole night…" her voice was soft and slow. A gentle mixture of sleep and the mothering tendencies she always felt when Cloud was around.

They sat in an uneasy silence, waiting for the other to speak. Their disagreement held invisibly between them until the awkward moment was broken as Tifa gave a weary sigh. Cloud smiled inwardly; as kids she was always the first to give in whenever they fought.

"He's sick, Cloud. Denzel's really sick" she sounded hurt and Cloud felt the guilt again, for bringing her trouble and possibly more sleepless nights.

"I'm sorry. I can give you some money…"

"It's not that. It's not about the money. He has Geostigma…." Tifa sniffed, her hands wringing together and then wiping her eyes. The skin of Cloud's arm prickled and he looked away.

"He's just a little boy. It's horrible. He lost his parents, and then his friends. I don't know what to do. I just, I can see it in his eyes, he's afraid to loose another family. I just see his face, -he's like an angel when he sleeps- and I love him. I love him like he was my son. I just don't know what to do."

He knew he was supposed to do something now, he was meant to comfort her, give her words of wisdom or say something uplifting. His mind flickered back to the child and father he had seen more than a month ago. _Geostigma._ He rubbed his arm, the resounding pain confirming the dim thoughts he had been long avoiding. He needed to get a way. He couldn't be here, not now. He stood to move, making his way to the door and taking the handle in his hand.

"He asked after you. I think you should go see him sometime. He wants to say thanks." Her voice sounded hopeful, and Cloud knew all she wanted was to know he would come back to them.

"It doesn't matter. You can tell him he doesn't need to thank me" he turned to look at her, ready to say goodbye.

"What is with you? Have you forgotten how to be a person? It's not about the thankyou. He wants to see you. You saved him, you're responsible for him. Stop being so selfish, stop hiding in the dark all the time." She was nearly crying; hands crossed angrily over chest while her hair fanned over her shoulders and pillow. Cloud realised she wasn't going to come after him, not anymore. He smiled, in a sad lonely way only a lost boy could, closing the door behind him.

He was climbing onto the Fenrir when Tifa grabbed him, her stern face stopping any questions.

"When you didn't come back last night, I called Vincent to look for you. He told me to give you this, when you came back." She passed Cloud the note, the address of an unfamiliar residence. It was probably a go between, since Cloud couldn't recall Vincent having his own house. He looked up again, but Tifa had already gone inside.

***

The door opened before Cloud's hand even connected with it, the owner returning to another room without greeting. The inside was as rundown as the outside walls and roof. Long cracks like vines snaked through the corridor, around the peeling paint and cobwebs. Despite the neglect the house felt alive, pulsating with warmth. Cloud followed the one light down the hall, taking a seat on the edge of an empty bed without saying a word. Outside the sky was breaking in a speckle of gold while the streets came to life with the murmur of traffic.

Vincent stood leaning against the wall, looking at Cloud with the least amount of motion or life that Cloud had ever seen. It chilled him, to sit before someone who looked like such a stranger.

"I spoke to Tifa…" Cloud drifted off, distracted by the vacant stare. He looked down, unwillingly to meet Vincent's eyes.

"Kid's okay. Well no, really… he isn't okay. But he's safe. It's not the same though. I don't even know what counts as okay…" he grunted, a short frustrated noise that sounded unfamiliar in his own ears.

"I get it, alright? I fucked up. I did the wrong thing. Can't you at least talk to me? You told me to come here and now you ignore me?" he was still yelling when Vincent made his way towards him, imposing as his cloak swirled behind him. He squatted in front of the bed, eye level with Cloud.

"You want to talk to me?" he asked, his voice soothing in Clouds ear.

Cloud looked at him through his lashes. His eyes followed the smooth lines of his jaw, the elegant strength of his neck which he knew to be the smoothest, softest skin his hands had ever wanted to hold. He had come here with half a plan, but even that was leaving him now the he was so close to Vincent. He was overcome with the intense need to touch him again. But he wouldn't, not this time. He couldn't loose the one person he wanted to see, wanted to be near.

"I want… I want to talk to you." As he spoke, he could see the faintest light spark in those beautiful eyes, he was so close he could his own face reflected, his own face beginning to smoulder and burn. A hand gripped his knee, sliding up his thigh and taking hold of his. The pressure was light, tentative and Cloud could sense the fear in both of them, the air was charged with the anxiety of both of them. Cloud was barely holding himself still, anything more and he would loose control. And Vincent seemed to need more.

"Is that all you want from me Cloud?" everything seemed to crash inside his head. His hands came up to take hold of Vincent's shoulders tightly as his words tumbled out before he knew what he was saying.

"I want you. I want to talk to you and I want you near me and I want you to stop it. I want everything to stop. I want it to stop hurting. I want you to make it stop. I want to breathe in the smell of you hair and taste the secrets in your skin. I want you to want me and take everything from me. Even if you killed me right here and now, I'd come back wanting more."

He pulled himself onto Vincent, terrified that his confession would be too late, that he would never again feel the man in front of him. His arms clung tightly, digging his nails in while he buried his face into Vincent's chest. His breath caught somewhere between his heart and his mouth, as Vincent shifted his head and kissed him. Kissed him with a darkness and passion and pain that he had never felt before. He focused his entire being on the feel of those lips, the rich heat as a tongue delved into his mouth, searching and caressing so perfectly that as it withdrew, Cloud chased it with his own, the two appendages meeting in a dance of dominance.

Cloud could feel the warmth again, that stretched throughout his entire body until he felt as if he was on fire. He barely noticed they had moved until he felt the cool sheets of the bed under him. The coldness of the sheets reminded Cloud of himself. He was cold. He had always been cold. It was as if he had lain trapped in murky waters, weighed down in a body of iron. The loss of everything, everyone, had drifted hidden amongst his watery coffin, whilst he had let the waves of numbness gently caress his face. For so long, he had lain undisturbed, watching the faint patterns of life around him, the light of the sun barely reaching through the deep.

Now, suddenly, he had broken the surface, breathing again for the first time in so long, gasping and cold. So unbelievably cold. The weight was still there, his iron body pulling down again and Cloud was overcome with the fear of drowning, unable to return to the watery prison. He struggled, noises spluttering out like the muted cries of a child, shivering. A hand caressed a searing line from his neck, down his spine and he followed the source. Warmth which banished that unbearable ice he felt beneath his skin. The burning threatened to turn him to shock even more, but Cloud couldn't stop. Not now. He crawled, hands ripping the sheets as he pushed himself onto Vincent, searching for the warmth he craved, the life he needed, ripping at the skin to devour that unknown burning.


	5. First Wave

_AN/ First part of this is a sex scene, so if you do want to skip it, look for the *** and resume reading there_

He was on fire. Burning and drowning and revelling in the feel of Vincent. And in his own, silent and constrained way, Vincent was consuming him.

Only his shoulders and legs remained on the bed as Cloud arched away from the mattress, using all his strength to cling to the body above him as a leg hooked itself around Vincent's, their arousals brushing together through the restrains of their clothes. Sharps nails and calloused fingers scraped down his bare back, raising the skin in both pleasure and the promise of pain. Cloud couldn't even remember his vest being removed. He couldn't remember feeling so driven before either, so frenzied. His mouth sought Vincent's as his hands curled their way through dark strands of silky hair. Vincent had remained silent, as they struggled against each other, but Cloud could feel the passion resonating through the solitary man's entire being. The hot breaths against his neck, the slight shudder he made as his belt was pulled away from him, was more expressive to Cloud than half formed words or awkward noises. He even admired the quiet resolve, while at the same moment he let a deep, primal grunt rise up from his throat as Vincent laid his head against his fast rising chest, breathing in the scent of the younger man as he removed Cloud's pants.

A tongue was snaking its way along his torso, a hurried, random trail of teeth and brushing lips that made a path to the hollow of Cloud's throat. Cloud's hands ceased their exploration of Vincent's back as the pair locked eyes. Though his face was impassive, the hint of a smile loomed over both of them as Cloud regarded Vincent's eyes, filled with lust and carnal pride.

Cloud grinned, unaware of how long it had been since he had last smiled in that way. Using his tucked in feet, he quickly dragged away the remainder of Vincent's clothes, before kicking his own boots and pants off. They shared a brief kiss, Vincent trapping Cloud's lower lip between his teeth, biting unexpectedly hard as a hand gripped his erection, languidly sliding down his length. Vincent buried his head into Cloud's neck, breathing heavily at the steady pace, his hips thrusting lightly as he was rewarded with a gentle squeeze and the trace of thumb, sliding along the now leaking member, the slight lubrication allowing for a faster pace.

His gauntlet seized Cloud's shoulder at the same time that he felt two strong legs grip either side of him, linking together. He both heard and felt the sensuous groan Cloud emitted, and his hand tensed uncontrollably, gripping harder then he wanted. Cloud only responded with more passion, sliding their bodies together and mouthing Vincent's neck, his hands taking hold of Vincent's hips and bringing them as close as he could, his desire and impatience obvious.

He could see the welts already rising, and despite the knowledge that the mako infused body below him was already recovering, he made to apologise, but Cloud brushed him off. He slid his tongue along the shell of Vincent's ear, breathing lightly along the tender skin as he whispered "its okay. I… you don't have to be gentle. I want you." he pulled away just enough to look Vincent in the eye

"I want you, and I want it to hurt. Just enough."

Cloud's eyes were trusting and waiting, trying to read the other man's response.

"Do you think you can do that for me? Make me forget, okay? For now…please?"

Vincent lifted Cloud's leg, one raising to rest on his shoulder, and he refused to look away. It should have felt wrong, but he knew, at the moment he would do anything for Cloud. Holding a shoulder down, his other hand travelled down the pale skin of Cloud's chest, reaching his erection and caressing it in a loving manner before providing the briefest of preparation. Knowing it truly wasn't enough, but also Cloud's own wish, he entered in one solid thrust.

Cloud's welcoming cry and the intensity of being surrounding in the tight heat threatened Vincent's very core. He could feel the rising of his own, well hidden demons. The dark, feral murmurs were whispering inside his mind, not to wait, but to punish and claim and posses the willing body beneath him.

They remained still for what felt like an eternity; Cloud's skin trembling erratically, his heavy breathes the only sound in the room as Vincent struggled to regain control, his hair falling in a dark curtain over his face.

He could feel the body beneath him relax, and the shift of hips caused the softest, sweetest sigh to breathe its way out of his mouth. Strong hands, smaller than his own but steadier than he felt, cupped his face. Cloud smiled a quiet, reassuring feature.

"You can move, now" before he had even finished speaking his body had began a slow, sensuous dance as he lifted himself, allowing Vincent in deeper.

The dark haired man thrusted in deeply, rewarded with a constant stream of low moans, punctuated with keening wails as their pace became erratic. His hands trapped Cloud on either side as he drove in with desperate force, his hair plastered to his face as his hands fisted the sheets. Cloud was rising up to meet him, matching his pace, eye shuts and mouth stretched, completely unaware of the noises rising from his throat. He could feel it building, the heat pooling in his gut, his body tightening and aching for release. Vincent thrusted harder, his movements becoming random and punishing and Cloud revelled in the feel of the strength above him, surrounding him. He was aware of the tension in the other man, as if he could feel how close Vincent was as well.

His hands reached up again, capturing the pale face as he whispered words of encouragement, not even knowing what he was saying, surrendering himself to the moment, the smell of sex heavy in the air, the unbelievable pressure rising within them both and slide of their sweat soaked skin.

He could feel the wave of ecstasy coursing through Vincent as if it was his own, and unable to wait any longer, Cloud brought a hand to his own length, trying to follow the crazed pace as Vincent filled him to the core.

It was blinding, sweet and consuming to the point of pain and he arched high, his body tightening as he cried out, his voice cracking and dying completely while his mouth still strained open in a silent plea.

The spurt of warmth across both their stomachs, and the tightening that surrounded his length brought Vincent over the edge, as he provided a final series of shallow thrusts, riding out the orgasm as he buried his head into Cloud's chest.

He could feel the body beneath him, pliant and relaxed, succumbing to the call of sleep as withdrew with a sigh.

Vincent laid back into the bead, his eyes unfocused as his senses returned. He could hear the traffic outside, mingled with the breaths of Cloud beside him. He could smell the younger man, in the air and on his bed, in his mouth and on his skin. Vincent turned on his side, watching the rise and fall, the breaths in out, as Cloud slept; his face peaceful.

***

"I didn't know you had a phone"

Cloud was on his side, a hand casually tracing useless patterns over the skin of Vincent's ribs. On occasion he was rewarded with a slight ripple or tremor, and his eyes roamed freely over the naked body before him.

Vincent's eyes were closed, and he frowned slightly.

"I don't have a phone"

"Oh..." Cloud shifted to lean on his elbow, his arm twitching as it pushed into the mattress. Vincent hadn't made any sign that he had seen the dark bruises, the Geostigma, so Cloud had taken to opportunity to hide it beneath his body, the tangled sheets obscuring any view of mottled flesh.

"Tifa said she called you… so I assumed she meant you had a number or something…" he trailed of, absently skimming the tips of his fingers down Vincent's stomach, making drumming taps on his hips.

"She did call. Not with a phone."

Vincent's voice was casual, but his body betrayed himself as he leant slightly into the touch.

"How did she manage that? You guys got some telepathy going on?"

Cloud's voice had been light, almost in jest but Vincent was unwillingly to talk about it, knowing the truth might drive away this new, content Cloud. He let himself continue to feel the petting, the urge to roll Cloud over and take things further rising.

His hand took hold of Cloud's free arm, his thumb tracing circles in a soothing motion.

"She was distressed. It was co-incidence actually. I was on my way to find you, and she was becoming more and more… frustrated. She called out, for help, to you. Like a child." The fingers had stopped

"She called out for others too, for me. So I came to her, I consoled her. That's what she meant when she said she called me. Though I suppose she may have been embarrassed to word it so."

Cloud was silent, his fingers paused over Vincent. He sighed, a combination of failure, acceptance and what Vincent recognised as arousal.

The hand resumed its exploration, following the tail of hair between Vincent's hips and threading its way into the dark curls.

Cloud pushed him onto his back, covering Vincent's body with his own as he lips reached his ear. His kissed the skin behind it, a chaste moment as he mumbled softy "I'm sorry"

***

Tifa strained, lifting a box from the shelf above her. Three times the weight the average man could carry, it was still heavy and she cried out as she felt it fall from her grasp.

Two arms came from behind her, catching the box with ease and setting it on lower shelf.

"Thankyou"

She turned to see Cloud, who looked uncharacteristically sheepish, an awkward smile on his face and a flower in his hand. He passed it to her quickly, looking anywhere but at her face.

"For Marlene, I didn't see her before, so I brought this."

Tifa smiled, making her way into the kitchen and filling a vase with water, Cloud following her silently like a shadow.

"I spoke to Vincent" he leant into the kitchen bench, appearing more comfortable now than he had when he had still lived there.

Tifa nodded, a slight blush colouring her cheeks as she remembered her frustration and desperation that had led Vincent to her. The promise he made; to help Cloud. His hand had been warm and reassuring, a strength and physical presence she hadn't felt in ages. Now Cloud was here, his eyes still haunted, yet more at peace than she had seen for so long. She busied herself with making tea for both of them, thanking Vincent for whatever it was the gunman had done, to return a small part of friend.

"How is he?" she was surprised at the grin that swept onto Cloud's face, a furtive smirk she hadn't known him to posses.

"He's… good. I have some information I need to get from him later"

"Oh?" she passed a cup to Cloud, breathing lightly over her own, which was spreading warmth to her hands. It was similar to the feeling in her heart, the familiarity of sharing tea and conversation was giving her hope -perhaps too much to soon- but hope nevertheless.

Cloud nodded his head towards the stairs, taking a sip as his face became sombre.

"Denzel. The Geostigma, Vincent has a contact, a former doctor that might know something. I'm going to go check it out. The kid doesn't deserve something like this"

"Cloud…" she wanted to reach out her hand, comfort him and console him and remind him of the hero he was. But the moment was fragile, so Tifa settled on a smile.

"He's resting upstairs, if you want to talk to him"

She took the empty cups, humming to herself as she heard the heavy footsteps of Cloud climbing the stairs to Denzel's room.

***

_AN: writing that first part was like pulling teeth. I spent more than a week skirting around having to write it. I even attempted homework as a ploy to avoid doing it._

_Sigh… such a pansy_


End file.
